“You don’t have to. In fact, maybe after your shower you can call back, and I can give you a demonstration tonight. You can pick any movie you want too.”
“How generous of you,” he mocks. “I did take a nap today, and I’m nowhere close to being ready for bed, so tonight could work.”
“Good. Let me help you wash that shaving cream taste out of your mouth with the wintery freshness you were hoping for the first time.”
“Okay,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his tone.
I help him mark everything he plans to use on his trip with rubber bands, and before he says goodbye, he brings the camera back to his face. His smile is so bright, and I wish it was closer to mine. “Thanks for not making me feel bad about being the mess of a human I am.”
“I don’t see this mess you speak of.”
“Oh, please.” He blushes. “You can stop trying to make me feel better now. No need to have pity on someone who needs help deciphering cooking oil from Lysol.”
I laugh. “I don’t take pity on you. I’ve made similar mistakes before using oven spray instead of cooking spray, and I have twenty-twenty vision, so maybe it’s me who needs to be pitied.”
His teeth peek between his lips. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I sure hope you didn’t eat whatever you sprayed it on.”
“Not all of it. Only enough to throw up my dinner once that night.”
He sputters a laugh. “I’m going to turn the water on now, and I need to hang up before I forget it’s running again. Thanks for your help tonight.”
“You’re welcome. Think about which movie you wanna see tonight while you’re in there.”
“I will. Bye, Raf.”
“Bye.” I bite back the next word that almost flies out of my mouth, not sure he’s distracted enough not to catch me calling him Honey this time.
My Honey.
Only he isn’t mine, but like before when his towel was falling down his body, I can’t help but want what a person like me doesn’t deserve to have. I don’t deserve the smile he left me with either, or the joy from looking forward to telling him how much a house looks like a house in the next movie we watch together. Oh, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure there are so many more movies.
Nine
Henry
Leave it to me to make a fool of myself time and time again. How water runs down my back, and the hard water pressure is perfect on my scalp. My eyes automatically close as a chill runs through me from the mixture of the heat and cold air enveloping me. As I’m on my way to finally relaxing and settling my thoughts, that deep voice pops into my head.
“Oh, I definitely see something.”
My body flushes all over again, heart rate speeding up. It’s the way he said it too. He has my spine tingling and ears buzzing. How much of me did he see and did he like what was in front of him?
My cock jerks between my legs and my hand makes its way down my shaking body. I squeeze my thighs together, feet cementing to the bottom of the tub as I give myself long strokes. Toes curling, a fever comes over me, and I curl forward as I thrust my hips. I think back to that kiss he described and imagine him tugging on my face to force me to look at him with one hand while the other takes the place of mine.
Suddenly it’s no longer me touching myself and causing pleasure to curl in the pit of my stomach. It’s his long, thick, warm fingers. Warmth scatters up and down the center of my body as I grip onto the wall with my palm flattening against the cold tile.
“You’re getting so close for me, Honey,”I can almost hear him whisper against my ear. Yes, I caught his little term of endearment whether he really meant to say it or not. Maybe he forgot who he was talking to for a minute, but right now I want to believe the word was for me and me alone.
“You like having me take care of you, don’t you? Having complete control of your pleasure. I bet you’re beautiful when you come. I can tell how much you’re dying to show me too.”
I fold more into myself, my pulse skyrocketing as I give in to every sensation taking hold of my body.
“Yeah, that’s my good Honey. My sweet Honey. Let go for me.”
Leaning entirely into the fantasy, I do, coming so hard I can practically see everything around me again—the sparkling white of the walls, the floral shower curtain touching my shoulder as I rock from side to side from losing my bearings.
“Fuck,” I sputter, milking the remainder of my orgasm with my tightening grip, and my lips stretch into an easy smile. Feeling so much at once, I both want to laugh and cry. That’s until the high I’m on fades and I’m pulled back into the reality of where I am— completely alone.
Needing to hear the real person who has my heart all over the place every time his voice pours out of the phone like warm honey, I hurry and wash my hair, counting the rubber bands on each bottle I open. I’m moving so fast I accidentally scrub shampoo into my eyes and drop the face wash on my foot. I let out a guttural shout and hop on one foot as I reach for the towel on the rack above the toilet to wipe my eyes.
